


Everything Stays

by raspberry_ink



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Basketball, But we still love him, Cigarettes, Depression, Drinking, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Isolation, John fucks up, M/M, Past Abuse, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, alex is a nicotine addict, alex isn't ok, alex passes out at one point due to exhaustion, beep beep i'm bad at tags, ben tallmadge is a big dick, i'll add tags as we go lol, john's a walking disaster, more than once, ok these tags are just turning into shitposts i'm done, shitty google translated german, someone help him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 14:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20327998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberry_ink/pseuds/raspberry_ink
Summary: John Laurens is the star of the basketball team. He's gotten used to the commotion surrounding his appearance; that's not what makes him nervous. What makes him nervous is what the assistant coach thinks of him. Alexander doesn't seem to be impressed by much; even when he is, he continues to push people away. He isolates himself. If John learned anything growing up, it's that nobody deserves to be alone.





	Everything Stays

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This fic is going to be a mess but that's fine. Most of the following chapters will be longer than this one! I can't guarantee a schedule for updates, but I'll be updating whenever I can. 
> 
> My face claims for these characters can be seen on my tumblr @shitbitchweasel! be sure to check them out.
> 
> Enjoy!

_"Let's go in the garden_  
_You'll find something waiting_  
_Right there where you left it, lying upside down_  
_When you finally find it, you'll see how it's faded_  
_The underside is lighter when you turn it around_

_Everything stays, right where you left it_  
_Everything stays_  
_But it still changes_  
_Ever so slightly, daily and nightly_  
_In little ways, when everything stays…"_

\-----

John attempts to focus on the repetitive ‘smack’ of the basketball hitting the ground as he dribbles, on the verge of becoming completely lost in his thoughts. It’s another one of those days; the days during which everything is slightly off and nothing important can quite stick in his head. The stress of upcoming games is likely a primary cause of his numbing lack of focus. The team has had their best season since it was created, and as much as he hates to admit it, something about the idea of setting any kind of precedent shakes John down to his nerves. His nerves definitely seem to be getting to him. ‘Most Talented Player In School History’ is a school newspaper title that Laurens has become accustomed to. The interviews with pretentious reporters no longer leave him with trembling knees, and he’s gotten used to the idea of being on television. He seems, from the outside, almost too comfortable with his current position. For John, the doubt comes in with the ever present knowledge that everyone will, inevitably, supremely fuck up. The thought sits in his shoes, creeping out at the worst of times only to be pushed down again by the business in his brain. Sometimes, on days like these, Laurens can almost forget that ugly fact. Leave it in his basketball shoes, in the bottom of his locker. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be the case today.

Steuben calls the drill with a loud shout of “_DER SCHLUSS_,” and John lets the ball drop to his feet, resting his hands on his head and walking in lazy circles as sweat drips down to his lip. “Your form is very sloppy today, Laurens,” The coach says at his natural volume of way-too-loud, earning John a smack on the back from Ben Tallmadge.

“I’m sorry sir, I’ve been distracted,” Laurens says easily, keeping his eyes on the ground. 

Steuben snorts. “Excuses. I always hear them from you. If you play like this at the game, I bench you. No jokes.” John nods his understanding and the coach is silent for a moment before addressing the team as a whole. “Two minutes, then meet in the lockers. _Die ruhepause_.” John waits for the sound of the gym door closing before groaning.

“‘I’ve been distracted,’” Tallmadge mocks in response. “No shit, Sherlock. You took a ball to the nose and barely flinched. Your German daddy looked like he wanted to punch poor Tench in the gut.”

“I want to punch you in the gut,” John deadpans, annoyance clear on his face. “Why are we breaking? Steuben doesn’t do meetings in the middle of practice.” He grabs his water bottle, drinking half of it before setting it back down on the bench.

Ben shrugs. “He hired some kid as his new assistant coach, since Walker’s too busy sucking his dick. I heard we’d meet him before practice, so he was probably late and Steubs wants to get it out of the way now instead of waiting until next practice.”

“Who’s the kid?”

“Alex Hamilton, apparently. That’s just a rumor though. It could be anybody, and something tells me that Hamilton has better things to do with his time than yell at a bunch of sweaty dudes about how to play basketball in a hot gym for two hours a day. He has like, friends and shit, you know? An entire social group revolves around his ass.”

“I’ve never talked to him,” John admits. He ties his shoe and stretches, beginning the jog back to the locker rooms. “He’s a hell of an interesting dude, I’ve heard stories. Shit, everyone’s heard stories about him. I haven’t had a real reason to talk to him before, though.”

“Now you do,” Tallmadge replies, almost smugly. John scoffs, shaking his head in something close to disappointment. The two of them make the trip through the gym doors and past the actual stadium, pushing the locker room doors open loudly. The majority of the team is already seated on the circle of benches in front of the locker walls, waiting for Steuben’s office door to open and end the suspense surrounding the identity of the new assistant coach. John sits down next to Tench Tilghman, wishing that he’d brought his water with him to the team meeting. Tench clears his throat and Laurens looks up.

“I’m sorry for hitting you in the face with the ball during the passing drills.” Tench’s tone is apologetic and John laughs awkwardly.

“It wasn’t your fault. I wasn’t paying attention. If I had been in position, it would’ve been a perfect pass,” he says with an encouraging smile, his teammate’s guilty expression melting away a bit. Tench doesn’t respond to John’s comment, instead choosing to train his gaze on a spot in the middle of the floor. The anticipation makes the air thicker and stuffier than mid-July heat, despite the cold autumn weather. 

The team is bad at working with people whose personalities don’t blend well with their own; this was learned the hard way when the previous team captain ended up in the hospital with a broken jaw, while Laurens had ended up with a ridiculous hospital bill to pay and eight months probation. He had his father to thank for the incredible lenience of the punishment.

Rich Meade had taken over as temporary captain shortly after their previous one was ‘retired’. After ten months, Meade still has the incredibly important addition of ‘temporary’ in his title as captain, but the general consensus on the reasoning behind it is that Steuben either keeps it that way to retain a general sense of chaos and anxiety around the topic, as that typically seems to be the coach’s favorite hobby, or that he had simply forgotten to look for a new captain and has consequently forgotten to make Meade’s title official.

Since the incident, the team has been extremely nervous about any kind of new addition. A new assistant coach is the biggest change they’ll be having in months, and all parties know how it could affect the team. Nonetheless, they’ve also been short staffed for months. There’s not an easy way around the problem.

The door to Steuben’s office swings open and the team looks up as a whole; including Molly Hays, who’s sitting on one of the sinks by the entrance. “Boys… Lady,” Steuben says, addressing everyone present. “This is new assistant coach, Alexander Hamilton. I say I expect warm welcome, but you are weasels and weasels cannot do that. Do not bully him into leaving team. I look at you, Laurens.” 

Laurens, on the other hand, is not looking at Steuben. His eyes are fixed on the person next to him, and he seems to be in another world. Alexander Hamilton silently assesses the room, a purely neutral look on his face, and tries to ignore whatever the weird expression on John’s face is. 

“LAURENS!” Steuben yells, snapping John out of his daze.

“Yes sir?”

“Do _not_ break jaw. Clear?” The team laughs at Steuben’s comment.

“Yes sir,” Laurens says instantly, looking back from Steuben to Hamilton.

“Good. There is.. Blood on your face. Clean up,” Steuben replies, making for the exit. “I go now. Speak with Hamilton. Do not bother me. Paperwork.” The door closes behind Steuben and John blinks dumbly for a few seconds before bringing his hand to his nose and feeling semi dried blood above his upper lip.

“Fuck,” He curses quietly, rushing to the sink and looking at himself in the mirror. “How the hell did this happen?”

“I’d guess it’s from when Tench obliterated your face with the ball,” Molly replies, even though John is obviously talking to himself. She hops off of the sink next to him and grabs a paper towel, running it under water for a moment before turning John to face her and beginning to wipe off the blood.

“Thanks,” John mumbles, letting his teammate clean him up and staying as still as possible. He glances in Alex’s general direction to see him talking with James McHenry, the majority of the others paying attention to Hamilton’s conversation. 

“You should probably go to the hospital and get this checked out. Your nose might be broken.” John snorts at Molly’s comment. “No, I’m serious, J. You can’t play basketball with a broken nose.”

“All the more reason to not go.”

Molly scoffs, lapsing into silence as she fixes John’s face up. She throws the paper towel away when she’s done, reclaiming her position on the sink. “Hamilton’s cute, don’t you think?” She asks teasingly, the expression on her face resembling the cat knife meme.

“Sure.” John pushes his loose hair behind his ears, looking for a fidget.

“Oh, come on, Jack. I saw you. You were all heart eyes for him when he walked in. You’re a gay loser.”

“Shut up,” John mumbles, looking genuinely nervous. Molly’s expression shifts.

“Hey, you know I’m here for you, right? We support each other?” She asks gently, waiting for John’s nod to continue. “We protect each other. That’s what we do. I’m not gonna out you to your friends. I hope you trust me on that.” John doesn’t respond, making Molly sigh. “I get that you’re paranoid and stuff. I am too. That’s why we’re a club,” She adds, and John smiles a bit.

“I really don’t deserve you, Molls,” He says, hugging his friend. Laurens isn’t usually the type to participate in hugs, let alone initiate them, but once in a blue moon, he’ll find a hug necessary.

“Yeah, you do,” Molly argues when the hug breaks. “We all need people to cover our asses. And hey, when cheer stops using the girl’s locker room, I’ll have an entire locker room to myself. One in which you are very welcome.” 

John turns his attention to the collection of sweaty boys all sitting in a corner of the room and makes a face. “I might take you up on that.”

Molly smacks the back of his head, not hard enough to sting. “No balls, John Laurens.” John shoves her and laughs. “Go talk to your future mans. Try not to fuck it up,” She says after a moment, grinning back at him. John smiles ever so awkwardly. “That’s the spirit. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

John turns around and makes his way back to the team as casually as possible. “You clean up your little accident, Laurens?” Andre asks loudly. John laughs and sits down next to him.

“Nah. Molly did. We’re all good,” He says, smiling. Alexander is suddenly directly in front of John, hand out.

“Alexander Hamilton. You’re John Laurens.” John shakes his hand.

“Yessir. Welcome to the family.”

Alex gives him a strange look. “Why did the coach ask you not to break my jaw?” Andre breaks out in laughter next to him and John laughs a little bit more awkwardly.

“John broke the old captain’s jaw,” Andre supplies. “I don’t remember why. The guy was kind of a piece of shit.”

“He was deadnaming Molly.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Anyway, John got eight months of probation and his daddy had to pay the dude’s hospital bill.” Alex snorts, smirking a little bit.

“I like you, John Laurens,” He says, and John smiles in return.

Alex isn’t the biggest dude. Around 5’8, scrappy, and gives off the vibe that he has something to prove. John has over half a foot on him, and finds himself wondering why the hell this guy is coaching basketball. “What are you doing as assistant coach?” He asks without thinking, not bothering to run his words through a mental filter before letting them into the world. Luckily for him, Alex laughs.

“I just needed a distraction, you know? That and some kind of extracurricular under my belt. I like analyzing plays and figuring out the most successful ways to get things done, and I’m all for team spirit. Most of what I’ll be doing is number crunching and paperwork. Making sure the coach is communicating with admin on what the team needs, keeping track of your status as a player. Your plays, your points, your penalties. The boring stuff.” John nods and Alex continues, “During games, I’ll be helping the coach with actual coaching stuff. I’ll probably work with you guys on plays and technique once a week or so, which helps you get used to my strategies and style; that way I’m not springing anything on you during the games. Other than that, I’ll help wherever I can and wherever the coach needs it.”

Tallmadge speaks up from a few feet away. “So, you’ll be the manager and you’ll be doing whatever Walker is supposed to be doing when he’s busy sucking-” Meade cuts him off with an elbow jab to the ribs. “What the fuck? That hurt, bro.”

“Maybe it’ll teach you to shut your damn mouth and I won’t have to do it again,” Rich shoots back. Alex elects to ignore them.

“You seem like a good group of people. Tell me about the team.”

Laurens looks around. “Richard Meade plays PF. He’s also technically the team captain, but Steuben yells at him just as much as he yells at the rest of us. William Grayson isn’t here, but he plays center. James Mchenry plays SG, John Andre plays PG, and I play SF. We’re the starters. Other than that, Benjamin Tallmadge plays SG, John Fitzgerald plays center, Caleb Gibbs plays SF, Molly Hays plays PG, and David Humphreys plays PF. Friedrich Von Steuben is the coach, and Tench Tilghman is another center. Benjamin Walker, who I’m guessing you’ll meet sometime soon, is the other assistant coach and Steuben’s boyfriend.”

“This isn’t a mandatory practice,” Andre adds. “We have one on wednesday, and hopefully the entire team will show. Walker might not, he doesn’t have to because Steuben won’t skin him if he doesn’t.”

“Good for him,” Alex replies, looking around the room at the team. “Molly Hays. I thought college basketball teams were gender exclusive?”

“Yeah,” John says, picking his words carefully. “Molly’s trans. Like I said, the old captain got decked for deadnaming her. Her- her real name isn’t on the roster yet, we’re still working on that. Everyone on the team is supportive, and Steuben has adopted her as his own. She’s been with us since before she came out, and she doesn’t really want to switch to the girls’ team. You know, it’s admin stuff. It really sucks because she’s probably the best player we’ve had and she’s been benched for most of this season.”

Alex gives her a calculating look before turning his attention back to John. “She’ll be on the court by the next game,” He replies, sounding like it’s a decision he’s already made. 

“What about her name on the roster?” John asks instantly.

“She’ll be on as Molly Hays. No reason to use a name that isn’t hers.” He writes something on his clipboard and tucks it under his arm before speaking to the whole team. “Alright, we’re heading out to the court. Solo practice for fifteen minutes, and then we’re going to do a three on three scrimmage; I want to see all of you playing with everything you’ve got.”

John sits on the bench for a moment, in something close to shock, before getting up in a flash and hurrying to Molly’s side. “You’re playing,” He announces, watching her closely.

“What?” She asks, her confusion clear.

“You’re playing. Next game. With your name on the roster. Molly Hays.”

Molly stares at him. “You’re fucking kidding,” She says after a few moments of silence, and John shakes his head.

“I talked to Hamilton about it. He said he’s getting you in the next game and getting your real name on the roster. He said ‘she’ll be on the court by the next game.’ You’ll actually be playing, not just sitting on the bench looking pretty.” 

Molly stares for a moment longer before laughing. “Holy shit, John. I’m playing again. I’m actually playing again. Oh my god,” She says, her voice wavering with overwhelming happiness. “My parents are going to be able to watch me play for the first time this season. Thank you so much.”

“We all need someone to cover our asses. Molly Hays is about to steal my spot as star player and not a single goddamn person will know what hit them.” For the second time that day, John hugs his friend; this time, he hugs her as tight as he can.

**Author's Note:**

> Basketball terms:  
PF - power forward  
SF - small forward  
SG - shooting guard  
PG - point guard  
scrimmage - practice game


End file.
